The winds of winter: The fanboy version
by DrMabuse
Summary: How Arya's story continues in my mind after A Dance with Dragons. All hail GRRM for creating the world of Westeros and the characters in it. Who also happens to own them and stuff. Either him or his publisher who I don't know. Eitherway they aren't mine. Feel free to tell me how bad it is.xD
1. Chapter 1

**CAT OF THE CANALS**

It was a mild winters day. The sky was a clear blue and the sun was shining. It was cold, but not too cold. Just right. Cat had been back with Brusco for 2 days selling mussels, clamps, oysters and cockles in the Rag Man's harbor. Before that she was apprenticing with Izembaro, a high ranking member of the powerful Iron Bank of Braavos.

He knew her as Jasmyn. Izembaro taught her the ways of doing business. He was still young. Tall but thin with long fingers olive skin and dark eyes. A thin face and a small mouth with thin lips. A skinny hawked nose and black, curly hair. He had a thin mustache and a long thin beard on his chin. She liked him. He always had a twinkle in his eyes and a little smile in the corners of his mouth. He was always willing to explain the things she didn't understand to her in detail. He never got impatient. And he always treated her to very tasty meals from foreign lands. Jasmyn wondered how much of that was him and how much was the House of Black and White.

She once asked the Kindly Man about it. He assured her that Izembaro was completely unaware of who she was and whom she served. As far as he was concerned she was the daughter of an impovered merchant from Gulltown. Who had been sponsored by an anonymous benefactor who had recently passed and left to her a small sum of money to learn the ways of trade at the Iron Bank.

That made her like Izembaro even more. Even though she didn't see as much of him as she would have liked. His position meant he was dealing with many wealthy clients all day long and sometimes he also traveled to meet them.

She had learned that the bank was not just a place were people brought their money to for save keepings. The bank invested the money they got in profitable ventures. Or lend it out to kings and merchants alike. At first she had frowned at that. What use was it lending out money? Izembaro had smiled at that and told her that the bank got interest on the loans. And a hefty interest at that. 15% was the standard. She had wondered what happened if the king simply decided he was not going to repay his loan. He was the king after all. Izembaro had smiled at that again, and told her that that would be a very dangerous mistake. Something a certain Westerosi queen was finding out. He didn't elaborate, but she understood his meaning. "I just hope Cersei lives through this." she thought grimly. "Cersei is mine to kill!"

That night she had asked the Kindly Man how this apprenticeship was going to help her in carrying out her duties as a servant of Him of Many Faces. The Kindly Man told her that although the Gift was a sacrament to The Many Faced God the Faceless Men still received payment from their clients. It wasn't always money, but it was most of the time. And so they needed the services of the Iron Bank. And it also helped them to get to their targets cause sometimes they needed to spend much coin to get close enough to give them the Gift. The Bank knew who they were dealing with, but all men must serve. And this was the service the Iron Bank provided. And she had to know how it all worked cause it wasn't uncommon for the servants of Him of Many Faces to travel as part of of the retinue of an employee of the Bank. Or to pose as a merchant. She understood.

Over the course of the next few weeks she worked at the bank going over the various accounts. She always have had a mind for sums and managing a household. This was not much different. She oftentimes had helped her Lady mother in the day to day running of Winterfell. Making lists of available supplies. Ordering new supplies. Making sure the suppliers were payed.

"No!" she thought. "That wasn't me. That was a girl named Arya whom I knew a thousand years ago. I am no one."

Izembaro was quit impressed with her skills. And so she did the books and kept the accounts of the House of Black and White. She had seen the astronomic amounts the Faceless Men received for their services. And at first she had been in awe. But after many weeks sitting from dawn till dusk in the offices of the bank it became a monotone routine. The office at the bank was always the same. Windowless. Marble walls. Myrish carpets on the floor. More marble underneath. Oaken desks and chairs. Candles on the walls and desks for light. Messengers delivering messages. And no one ever spoke more then they had to. Everyone was too busy checking accounts or signing new loans. The only break from this were the times when she was called to serve as an agent of Him of Many Faces. A total of 7 times so far.

Or for further training purposes. That and her wolf dreams.

She was now able to create her own mummers disguises without help and was getting better and better at casting a glamor. That was something she liked. She still remembered how Jaqen's face had rippled and changed in front of her. And although hers was still far from perfect, so far she was only able to hold it for a few seconds before it collapsed again, she was getting closer. Much to the amazement of The Kindly Man who tutored her. He told her that he had never known anyone picking this up this fast. She had bugged him about it for weeks untill he finally gave in. And in her dreams she was the Night Wolf. Running ahead of her packmates in search of pray. Pray was hard to find these days. The snows fell often and heavy. But that didn't matter. In her dreams she felt safe among her pack. In her dreams the hollow feeling she had inside her when she was awake was gone. In her dreams she was not alone.

Everything was going right. Izembaro was impressed and seemed to genuinly like her. The Kindly Man was impressed. But she was not satisfied. Sitting in her office all day long made her feel cut off from the rest of the world.

She missed Brusco and his daughters. She missed the Rag Man's harbor. She missed the smell of fish and tar, the smell of the sea.

She missed the sight of ships returning or departing from or too far away destinations. She missed the whores at the Happy Port. She missed the tales the sailors told of the Free Cities. Oldtown. Duskendale. Kings Landing. Gulltown. The White Harbor.

And so one night she asked the Kindly Man if she could be Cat again. At least for a short while. He had looked at her with an amused smile. But agreed after a short while.

And so she had walked into Brusco´s house again 3 days ago. All it took was a short "Valar Morghulis." answered by an equally short "Valar Dorhaeris." and they put another plate on the table and continued their dinner as if she had never left. The next morning she was Cat again.

Cat relished the sights of the harbor while crying her wares. "Fresh mussels, cockels, clamps, oysters!"

It had been a good day for a fishmonger. She was nearly sold out and the day was only half through. She decided she could take a short break and enjoy the sights of the harbor. She pushed her cart through the crowd to the piers where the ships arrived and found a sheltered spot. She lit a small fire for heat and sat down to watch the ships docking. She liked to guess where they had been. The one that was currently arriving was fairly large. But not as large as a Swan ship from the Summer Isles.

It sails were a faded grey. "Probably Gulltown." she thought. "Maybe Kings Landing."

"It is Westerosi for sure." she thought. But the Redwyne street in the south was swarming with Iron Born pirates. So it was not very likely that this ship came from there. So somewhere more to the north. She decided to wait a little longer. She still had some oysters and clamps left she could sell to the crew. And then she could ask them where they hailed from and what news there was from Westeros. She waited until the ship was properly tied up and then slowly pushed her cart towards where the gangway was located. She could now make out the letters of the name on the side of the ship. They were as faded as it's sails. Blackbird. The crew lowered the gangway and started to disembark. She moved closer and could now make out the men coming to shore. Their clothing was as black as their mood apparently.

"Men of the Nightswatch. Maybe I can get some news about Jon out of them!" she thought excitedly. While she moved closer to start up a conversation she noticed that the black brothers looked weary. Underneath their black cloaks she noticed they were wearing mail and boild leather. One hand at their sword, standing in guard positions. As if they were expecting trouble. Their hard looks made other passerby's move around them in a large circle. Four now had left the ship taking up defensive positions. Two more were standing at the top of the gangway with spears in hand. Cat decided it might be better to not start up a conversation and moved back to her sheltered spot. She looked back to the ship and saw four more black brothers decending carrying a small litter, blinders closed. Another eight followed. Hands on their swords covered by their cloaks. She saw several men staying onboard to guard the ship. The four which had decended first now took point with the four carrying the litter in the middle, four more guarding the rear and two at each flank. Two more armed with spears came down and took up position at the foot of the gangway.

"What or who are they transporting that is so important that it requires sixteen armed guards?" she wondered. "And why are there so many Crows here in Braavos at the same time?"

Cat's curiosity was peaked.

She decided to follow them and find out. She made sure she had the purse with the silver from her sales that day and then covered the cart as best she could with some rags and moved it behind some crates. She would come back for it later. Once that was done she quikly set out to catch up with the small caravan.

It wasn't to hard. They moved slowy and cautiously. She had expected them to go to one of the harbor's inn's.

Instead they walked towards an abandond warehouse not too far from were their ship was moored. No one had taken notice of her following. She was small enough to get lost in the crowd of sailors, whores, merchants and their retinue and still track them. She slipped inside the warehouse through a hole in the wall and quikly hid behind some empty barrels. "Silent as a shadow." she thought. She watched six black brothers entering, swords drawn, swarming out to secure the area. After a moment they called out to their comrades who then came in carrying the mysterious litter. Two of them stayed outside standing guard. The rest came in behind the litter sitting on the floor or on empty crates and started to visibly relax. The ones carrying the litter took it to one of the old offices some twenty meters away and put it down infront of where the door once had been. Two of them entered and after a few minutes she saw them starting a fire in the old fireplace using some of the wood that was lying around them. She craned her neck from her hiding place. But she was too far away to see clearly. She looked around for more cover closer to the office. There was non. But she did notice a window in the office with a view of the outside. Quikly and quitly she made her way back to her entry point and slipped out as unseen as she had entered. Carefully she made her way around the building. Lucky for her all of the black brothers where still inside. After several minutes she had reached the office window. "By now they will have unloaded the litter." she thought. Carefully she sat up and peaked through the glassless window. She could hear soft murmering inside but couldn't make out what was beeing said. A girls voice. She slowly stood up for a better look. She saw two black brothers at the doorframe with their backs turned towards her. The litter was standing inside the office with the blinders now open. She still couldn't see enough though and ducked back down moving towards her right. Once in position she stood back up and carefully peaked inside again. The Nightswatch men still faced away from her. But now she could see inside the litter. There was a woman inside with a scarf wrapped around her mouth, nose and hair leaving only her eyes free and a man wearing the black of the Nightswatch. The woman also had her back turned towards her and blocked the view of the mans face. She was talking to him, but he wasn't saying anything back to her. Just lying there barely moving.

Then suddenly the woman stood up and went to speak to one of the guards at the door. Now Cat could see the man's face...and her heart skipped a few beats. She ducked back down. Her breath stopped and a scream was caught in her throat. She had to bite her tongue to keep it there. She bit so hard she tasted blood.

The man in the litter looked terrible. Deathly pale and feverish. His features were gaunt, almost skeletal. But there was no doubt at all.

It was her brother.

Jon Snow.

After a moment which seemed to be an eternity she stood back up to sneak another peak. The woman was still outside the room. She could hear her arguing with the guards. But she ignored whatever it was they were arguing about. Her gaze was fixed on the litter and it's occupant. "Jon..." she thought. She looked at him lying there looking like a corps. She could feel tears filling up behind her eyes but she did not make a sound. He was so pale as if all the blood had been drained from him. He had lost a lot of weight. His hair was long and had an oily look to it. His beard was ungroomed. Both were still as dark as her own. His skin glimmered filthy, sweaty, feverish. And at first glance you could think he may have already died. But there was still breath in him. It came slow and shallow.

Suddenly the argument outside stopped and Cat ducked back down just in time as the woman returned. This time she was not alone. Cat heard a man's voice. She strained her hearing.

"...can't take him to a healer. If word would reach the wrong ears that we are here..." she heard the man. The woman replied "And if we don't get him to a healer he will die and all this will have been for naught."

The man did not reply immediatly as if he was thinking it over. Eventually he said "There is also the matter of coin. We haven't brought enough. We didn't have time to get more from Eastwatches coffers. Not that there was a lot in there to begin with. But we also have over a hundred men here. They need food too and..."

The woman interrupted him "Then sell the ship. Sell some swords and spears. They ought to be worth something. At least enough to buy some food and get a healer for Lord Snow. All you men made your choices when you sided with him against the Watch. You can't let him die now! Not after all that we have been through to get him away from there!" she pleaded tears clearly in her voice.

Cat listened breathlessly. "Sided against the Watch? What is going on?" she thought to herself. "Jon is the Lord Commander. Why would he..."

She heard the man inside let out a sigh. "Very well. I will order the captain to make an inventory of what we have on board and see how quikly we can sell it off."

Cat heard him turn away and listened to his footsteps while he was leaving.

She lingered for another moment while sneaking another look inside. The woman was bend over Jon again depping his forehead with a wet piece of cloth whispering to him. Cat couldn't hear what she was saying. She looked at her brother with a heavy heart. She wanted to run to him. Hold him. But she had seen the look on his men's faces. If she would just come in there they would most likely cut her down before she even got near him.

With a last sad look she turned away and carefully made her way back to where she had left her cart.

Her head spinning, her heart racing in her chest and tears flowing down her cheeks freely now she ran back to her cart. Jon was here! In Braavos. And he was dying. He had sided against the Watch. What did that mean?

Did he abandon his post on the Wall? Did he commit some kind of treason? She shook it off. Whatever the reason was it didn't matter she decided. Her brother was here. And he needed her help. That was all she needed to know. Everthing else did not matter.

She reached her cart. She looked to the west. The sun was setting. She knew the merchants were getting ready to pack up their things and the shopkeepers were about to close their shops. No way that the captain of the Blackbird would be able to sell anything today to get the money they needed to get Jon a healer. And tomorrow it could be to late. She took her cart back to Brusco's as fast as her feet could carry her.

When she finally reached his house she hastily stowed the cart and went inside and put the purse with her earnings infront of him on the table, ignoring him and his children who shot her startled glances. She went to the room she shared with his daughters and got her belongings and went for the door.

Brusco looked like he was going to ask her a question but she only gave him a look that convinced him otherwise. She headed back out. The sun had fully set by now.

Cat shouldered her backpack and started heading towards the Purple Harbor.

When she arrived she immediatly started moving towards one of the houses located on the road towards the Sealords palace. She only stopped once in an alley adjacent to the house. She pulled her mummers kit from her backpack and put on a hasty mask. She checked her face in a mirror. She had put on some poxmarks, false teeth and a dirty blonde whig. If someone who knew her was to look closely...

Normally creating a new face took hours but there was no time to waste. This would have to do.

Last she put on her acolyte robes and pulled the hood over her head. Now dressed like this she headed towards the door. She pulled a cord and heard a bell ring inside. After a moment she heard movement and a young man with reddish hair opened.

He looked at her wide eyed. Cat recognized the robes of a serving man.

"Get your master. Fast!" she said in a tone that brokered no argument. The servant turned around and ran back inside. She heard a ruffle coming from inside and after a few moments another man appeared. He was elderly with no hair left on his head. His robes were made of light blue silk over a slim frame, soft slippers on his feet.

"Valar Morghulis." she said before he could say anything. She quikly reached into her purse and handed him one of the iron coins of her order. He took it and looked at it almost fearfully before handing it back to her.

"Are you the healer Osric?" she continued.

"I am him..." he replied and then quikly added "Valar Dorhaeris."

"Get your litter ready. Get your instruments, bandages and ointments and come with me." she instructed him. Osric bowed and started shouting orders to his redhaired servant who was still lingering in the dark hallway.

After a short while they where sitting in the litter carried by two servants. Cat had learned the name of the redhaired servant before they departed. And she had learned the names of the servants who carried the litter. When she had been Salty, crossing the Narrow Sea from the Saltpans in Westeros to Braavos, the crew of the ship "Titans Daughter" had all told her their names but never asked hers. She thought that strange at the time. But now she knew. She was no one. She had no name. And the Faceless Men never killed a person that they knew. So the servants where eager for her to learn theirs and repeat them back to them just like the crew of the "Titans Daughter" had been. They would be safe. From her anyway.

"No one has no brother." she thought to herself. "But Arya Stark does. And she would want me to do this."

She directed the litter back towards the Rag Man's Harbor and the warehouse.

Before getting out she gave Osric further instructions and then vanished into the night while the litter continued towards the warehouse. Out of sight Cat quikly took off her robe and stuffed it back into her backpack. Then, silent as a shadow, she stalked her way towards the office window where she had been listening earlier. She looked around her to check for guards. There weren't any. As expected the arrival of Osrics litter had distracted the guards enough drawing them to the main entrance allowing her to approach her previous listening post unseen. She peaked a look inside and saw the litter with the blinds closed inside. There where candles on the walls in holders and on the floor in the corner of the room.

She could hear loud voices inside. The black brothers demanded to know who Osric was.

"Please My Lords..." she heard him say in the common tongue. "I am a healer. I was instructed to come here to tend to a patient."

"Who gave you these instruction?" "We have not send for a healer."

"I...I can't say..." she heard Osric say in a small voice. She imagined the black brothers pointing their swords at him. "We do not speak of them in Braavos."

"I am only here to provide a service." "I...I was told to tend to a Jon Snow."

A new voice deeper and louder then the previous one cut in "Who told you his name?"

Something in the litter stirred. Cat could see the woman she saw earlier opening the blinds. And she could see Jon. His eyes where open. He was awake! That must be a good sign she thought with relief. The woman whispered to him and he nodded. The woman got up and headed outside. Cat looked at Jon. His eyes where burning with fever. He looked so frail and weak. Nothing like the young man who had called her "Little sister" and mushed up her hair. Who had gifted her with Needle and gave her her first sword lesson. "Stick them with the pointy end." Tears started to fill her eyes again and her heart was breaking. She had to stop herself to stay put. She desperatly wanted to run to him. But that was not an option. The woman returned with Osric and two black brothers behind her. One small with large ears and the other tall with a lot of muscles.

Osric looked scared with sweat on his forehead. And then Jon spoke with a very weak voice. "Who are you? Why have you come here?"

The words where almost a whisper.

"My name is Osric My Lord. I was instructed to come here, that you were in need of my services as a healer."

"Who send you here?" "I can't say My Lord. We do not speak of them in Braavos." "How do I know then that you are who you say you are?" Jon continued in a thin voice.

Osric looked like he was going to cry. "Remember, damn you!" Cat thought anxiously.

As if he had heard her thoughts Osrics face cleared up. "I was told to give you some words to proof my good intentions!"

"Let's have them then." Jon rasped before breaking into a coughing fit. Once the cough had stopped he looked up to Osric again.

"Stick them with the pointy end."

Jon froze. His men exchanged confused looks. The woman also looked confused.

"Who...how..." Jon started, starting to rise before breaking into another cough. Once that had passed he looked back up at Osric. And after a moment of contemplation he said "Healer. Do your duty."

Osric smiled and started to examine Jon.

By the time Osric and his litter left the moon was standing high in the cloudless sky. Cat had left her post earlier and was waiting for them dressed in her robe again a good distance from the warehouse.

The servants saw her and stopped. Osric opened the blinders and climbed outside.

"How did it go?" Cat asked. To which Osric replied "I believe I got there just in time. He was stabbed. Twice in the back and once in the belly."

Cat felt a coldness creeping up her spine.

"The wounds had festered and caused a fever. If I had gotten there any later I doubt he would have survived more then another day or so. I cleaned the wounds and salved them to help fight the infection. Now he is in the hands of the Gods."

Cat shook her head.

"You will return here on the morrows eve. And the eve after that until he is no longer in any danger." Cat told him sharply. Osric swallowed and nodded "Valar Dohaeris".

"I thank you for your service Osric." Cat said and turned around heading back to Brusco's.

Over the next few days she frequented the area where the warehouse was located as Cat on a daily basis. Every evening she met with Osric as no one so he could tell her how Jon was doing. The fact that Osric seemingly had shown up out of nowhere had the black brothers spooked. They had increased patrols of the area around the warehouse. Cat counted at least ten men outside at all times. Two at the main entrance and the rest making rounds around the building. And there were probably more inside. Which made it pretty much impossible for her to go back herself. And a couple of times they had followed Osric back to his house. Trying to find out who had send him since he refused to tell Jon. She always saw them. So she started waiting for Osric inside his house instead of meeting him on his way back home. His servants let her in without any questions notifying their master on his return. The first two days Jon tryed to pry from him who had send him. But Osric never told him. And eventually he seemed to accept he was not going to get anything out of him. He told her that Jon's condition was improving. Slowly. He now slept a lot and his fever had gone down. But it had not broken entirely yet. She also asked about the woman with the scarf. Osric however couldn't tell her anything about her that she didn't already knew. She never showed her face. Never spoke when he was around. But she was always near Jon. Cat wondered who she might be. Women were a rare thing at the Wall. Even rarer travelling with a host of black brothers. Was she the reason Jon was hurt? "If she is," Cat thought "I will pray for her!"


	2. Chapter 2

**The pretty girl**

Then one day before dawn a message was delivered to Brusco's house. She was being summoned to The House of Black and White.

Upon arrival she was greated by the Kindly Man.

"Valar Moghulis" he greated her. "Valar Dorhaeris" she replied.

"A man has come to Braavos." he told her. "He needs to be presented with the Gift of the Many Faced one."

She nodded. The Kindly Man went on describing her target to her.

Once she repeated everything the Kindly Man had told her she was led down by the Waif to the room of Faces, as she had named the Sanctum, and underwent the procedure once again. It was as unpleasant as the seven times before.

When the Waif was done she had a momentary sensation as if she was drowning, as if someone was holding her head under water. She took a deep violent breath and the shadows retreated and the memory of her new face faded.

Once she recovered she looked at her new face in a mirror while the Waif braided her hair for her. She had led it grow back. It was shoulderlength by now.

She studied her new face.

It was a pretty face. Classical features. With high cheekbones and soft full lips. For a moment she remembered a girl she once knew a million years ago with similar features, vivid blue eyes and thick auburn hair who had loved lemon cakes. She saw the Waif looking at her and shook off the memory of that girl. "I am no one." she repeated to her image the Waif just nodded and led her back upstairs.

The girl was looking at her target. He was a Westerosi. A man of middle years. Tall and thin. With light brown eyes, a sparse brown beard and receding hair. Dressed in old fading red and blue velvets and dark boots that looked like they had been repaired many times. He looked as if he was a nobleman. Or a merchant perhaps. But one that had fallen on hard times. Carrying an old leather belt and well worn scabbard with a simple looking short sword.

She had followed him around for two day's now. After the first day she waited until she was certain he was a sleep. Hurrying to make her nightly meeting with the healer.

Afterwards she returned to the temple.

The Kindly Man asked her about her target.

"He is a foreigner. A Westerosi. Though I am not certain where from." she told him.

"It matters not where he's from." the Kindly Man told her. "All that matters is that he get's the Gift."

"It seemed as if he was looking for something. He talked to a lot of people."

The Kindly Man nodded. "He is indeed looking for something."

"What is he looking for?" the pretty girl asked.

"Do not concern yourself with that. Focus on how to give him the Gift."

She nodded and went back to her cell for some sleep.

The pretty girl rose before sunrise on the second day to get to the inn where her target stayed before he got up.

She followed him from the docks, to the bustling markets and crowded taverns. From the Rag Man's Harbor to the Purple Harbor to the moonpools and even the Island of the Gods.

She saw him talk to a lot of people. From merchants to sell swords to dockworkers and even the fishmongers. She always kept her distance though. It was of no interest to her what he was asking. She needed an opportunity to give him the Gift.

Once however she was close enough to hear him speak.

He was fighting with a fishmonger about the price of his lunch and it got heated.

He spoke the common tongue the way they did in Kings Landing.

But in a manner that marked him as someone who had recieved an education. Which pretty much ruled out a commoner.

Now she was sitting in a corner booth in one of Braavos many taverns watching the man drink at the bar.

She was dressed in an old roughspun dress with a dark hooded cloak and simple soft boots.

The pretty girl had accepted the offer of a patron to buy her a drink. While the patron chatted away at her she kept an eye on her target while at the same time grunting the occasional aknowledgement during his stories as if she was listening to it and nipping at her beer.

He was just sitting there brooding. Not talking to anyone except to order a new drink. Ignoring the tavern whores and the occasional guest trying to strike up a conversation or get him to join a card game. Her thoughts wandered back to Jon. Osric had told her last night that his condition had improved such that the healer believed he was no longer in danger from the infections. His wounds where healing as well. With plenty of rest and good food he would be fine. The girl had been relieved to hear it. But insisted that the healer would continue to make his nightly visits until he was absolutely certain.

The thought of Jon improving made her smile. She looked back up to the bar. Her date still babbeling at her. The man was gone. The pretty girl cursed herself quietly. She had allowed herself to be distracted by her thoughts. Now she had lost her target. She quikly got to her feet and looked around but she didn't see him. She noticed the shuddering flames of the torches near the entrance door. Quikly she made her way to the door pushing her way through the crowd leaving her date behind without a second thought and headed outside. Night had fallen.

Outside she looked around and saw a tall, thin figure moving away from the tavern. She quikly set out to follow. His walk was far less steady then it had been during the day she noticed. "He is drunk." she realised. That was good. No one would think anything of a drunk falling into the canals and drowning. Only problem now was the how? He was to tall for her to hit him over the head and then dumping him into the canal. And she didn't bring any paralyzing poisons. And she couldn't use her blades on him either. Stabwounds tended to rule out an accident. She was still going over her possibillities in her head when she heard the voices coming from an alley to their left. She saw two figures stepping into the street lanterns light. Wearing colorfull clothes with the thin swords of Braavos on their hips. The pretty girl smiled.

Upon her return to the House of Black and White the Kindly Man inquired how it went.

"It was tragic." the pretty girl told him. "The foreigner was ignorant of the ways of Braavos. He was carrying his sword around for everyone to see. At night. And apparently he boasted about the swordskills of the Knights of Westeros and putting down the skills of the Bravosi. Calling their swords toys for children and girls. And then he told two Bravosi, in the common tongue, that he would shove his spear up the Nightingale's arse and fuck her bloody if he ever saw that ugly hag." "That was very unwise I imagine." the Kindly Man told her.

"The Bravosi did not take kindly to it." the girl answered.

"I wonder, did the Bravosi speak the common tongue?"

"No." the pretty girl answered. "Lucky for them and unlucky for the foreigner someone who did speak the common tongue happened to pass by and translated his insults for them. What happened next wasn't pretty. I guess the man himself was no Knight of Westeros."

"Just so." the Kindly Man nodded. With that he dismissed her to the Waif who then returned Arya Starks face to her.


	3. Chapter 3

**Jasmyn**

Two days later she was send back to Izembaro and the Iron Bank with Jasmyn's face and name.

When she walked in to Izembaro's office to report back for duty he looked at her and demanded to know where she had gone to. "Valar Morghulis." she replied. Izembaro's eyes grew large but he caught himself quikly. "Valar Dorhaeris." he responded with a sad look in his eyes. "He feels sorry for me." she thought with a little shock. She also felt sorry for him for having to find out. She liked him.

She had been Jasmyn again for nearly three weeks now. Izembaro had been more guarded around her she noticed with a pang of regret. But otherwise nothing had changed. He still treated her to foreign delicasies and was helpful as ever. But he never looked as comfortable around her anymore as he used to. But Jasmyn had

no time for regrets. She was here to learn. She had realised that money made a lot of things possible. Wars could be fought almost indefininetly if you just had enough coin. "The sinews of war are infinite money." Jasmyn thought.

_(Authors note: Got that quote from Rome: Total War. It is credited to Cicero.)_

The services of the Faceless Men were another thing money could buy. And coin was something the Iron Bank of Braavos had in abundance. And from what Izembaro had implied in regards to Cersei, they were not afraid to use it either.

Izembaro had her prepare contracts for clients who invested large sums of money in ships heading to the east and west to bring back silks, jewels, spices and other valuable goods. The contracts where pretty much all the same in wording. The only thing that differed where the sums on them, the goods and quantities mentioned in them and the names of the investors and sellers.

In the evenings after work she went to meet with Osric before returning to the temple. Luckily working at the Bank meant it was not uncommon for her to work late. So she did not have to come up with excuses why she came back so late.

Sneaking out of Brusco's was easier cause he and his family all were vast sleepers.

She had to rearrange Osrics schedule a little so she could make the meetings. She made him go to Jon two hours earlier.

Much to his dismay. And while he muttered about it under his breath and complained out loud he still obeyed.

She thought back on her meeting yesterday with Osric. The healer had told her that Jon's recovery was slowed down by him staying at the warehouse. It was cold, wet and drafty. He also told her that staying there increased the chances of him falling ill again. The fever still had not broken. And the goods that the Nights Watch men tried to sell only yielded a very small amount of coin. Barely enough to keep all of them fed with just stale bread.

Jasmyn knew she couldn't ask Osric to give them money. Osric already provided his service for her. And while she could demand of him to extend that service nearly indefininetly she couldn't demand of him to pay for food as well.

Well, she could. And he would do it too. But that wouldn't be fair to the healer. And it would be gready of her.

Jasmyn looked over the contracts again. Another one for the merchant named Tarn.

Over the past two weeks she had prepared numerous contracts for this man.

He invested a lot in voyages to Westeros. Especially timber, flax and ropes. And to a lesser degree in things like Arbor gold, Dornish red or Northern ale's and beers.

When she had questioned Izembaro about that he had looked at her with suprise. Timber, flax and ropes, he told her, are among the most valuable goods in all of Braavos. As well as in most of the other Free Cities. Since as a seafaring culture they were always in need of shipbuilding equipment to build new ships or to repair ships damaged on the previous voyage. Cities like Braavos or Lys, Lorath and Tyrosh were located on islands. They didn't have forests or land to get the timber for ship hulls and masts or grow the flax for sails and hemp for the ropes they needed to build ships. So these goods where higly priced and the man who could provide a steady supply could make a fortune. The Iron Bank brokered the deals and got a cut of the profits in return. And they were nice profits.

Jasmyn felt stupid. It was pretty clear now that Izembaro had explained it to her.

And Tarn was amongst these men who provided such a steady supply of these valuable goods.

That night after work Jasmyn donned her acolyte robe and a mummers mask of false teeth, a crooked nose with a big mole on the nosebridge and a whig with short, yellowish hair. Tarn, unlike other wealthy merchants, didn't live in the Purple Harbor area. Instead he owned a large house near the Rag Man's Harbor. Since most of his business came from ships from Westeros. He did not own that many ships of his own but rather hired Westerosi captains and their crews to collect and deliver the goods. And they were barred from using the Purple Harbor.

She had seen Tarn several times at the bank when she delivered the prepared contracts to Izembaro's office. Tarn was there to put his signature and seal at the bottom of each contract.

You could tell from his appearance that he was a man of wealth. He was an elderly man with a fleshy face, a flat nose a pale complexion, long white hair pulled back and held together by a gold clasp and a neatly trimmed, thick white beard that hid more then one chin. He had a big belly and hands as fleshy as his face. His fingers reminded Jasmyn of little sausages with gold rings around them.

He was always dressed in costly silks which were cut as a robe.

Jasmyn approached Tarn's house and knocked on the door. An elderly, toothless maid opened the door and looked like she was going to faint when she saw Jasmyn's black and white robe. It took a moment until the maid had regained her calm and after giving Jasmyn her name and Jasmyn repeating it back to her she led her to a large, richly furnished room with a lot of gold on the walls and the ceiling, a large hearth where a big fire send rays of warmth in to the room. Tarn sat in a large, soft looking armchair going over scrolls of paper lying before him on a small cedar wooden desk. A beewax candle providing additional light standing next to a gold goblet of wine and a crystal decanter filled with Dornish red.

Like the maid he looked as if he was to faint when he saw her. Dropping the goblet he had raised to his mouth spilling the Dornish over his papers and on the costly looking carpets. Jasmyn pulled the iron coin from her purse and handed it to him. "Valar Morghulis."

Tarn took the coin and stared at it. "Valar Dorhaeris" he replied eyes still wide.

"I hear you are a wealthy man who owns a villa just outside the city." Jasmyn told him. It was not a question. She had descretely gotten that information from Izembaro.

Tarn nodded. "I need you to move there for a while." she told him. And added "With your entire household."

"For how long?" he asked. "For as long as it takes." she replied. "But my business..." he started. Jasmyn cut him off "...will continue. Just not from here until I let you know otherwise." "Gather up your papers, clothing, valuables and whatever else you need. I need you and your staff gone by daybreak before the sun rises. Make sure your business partners and suppliers know where you are and not to come calling here. Give me the keys to your house."

For a moment he looked like he was going to protest.

But then he nodded resigned and signaled the maid who still stood at the door. She moved forward and pulled out a keyring with many keys on it and handed it to Jasmyn.

She felt sorry for throwing Tarn out of his own home, but Jon needed this house. It was large, comfortable and close to the Rag Man's Harbor and the Blackbird. That way Jon's men were always close by.

The maid told her which key belonged where. And then she showed Jasmyn around the house, going from room to room with Tarn following them. Jasmyn taking mental notes.

After the tour they returned to the sitting room.

Jasmyn turned back to Tarn. "I will also require a sum of tenthousand in gold coin. Leave it in a chest on the table."

Tarn hadn't looked very happy since her first request and his expression soured even more at the second one.

But he just nodded and said "It will all be as you requested. Valar Dorhaeris."

"I thank you for your service Tarn. It is good to know you."

With that Jasmyn turned around and returned to the Braavosi night.

Once outside she hurried to the healers Osric's house.

Osric had already returned from his visit to Jon and was waiting for her in his study. Jon´s condition had not improved but at least it had not worsened either.

She then handed him the ring with the keys and instructed him that he was to deliver these to Jon at once and to send him and his men to the merchants house after daybreak where they would live until Jon had fully recovered. She also mentioned the chest but did not tell him what was inside. Osric took the keys and promised to do as she had told him.

Satisfied Jasmyn returned to her cell in the House of Black and White, after stealing some bread and watered wine from the kitchen for her supper, she undressed and collapsed onto her bed. Too tired to even recite her prayer.

That night she did not dream of the Night Wolf. That night she dreamed of a girl named Arya. She had a mother named Catelyn and a father named Eddard. She had four brothers and one sister. Robb, Jon, Bran, Rickon and Sansa. And she had a direwolf with yellow eyes and grey fur named Nymeria. They all lived in a large castle called Winterfell.

And she was happy!


	4. Chapter 4

**The plain girl**

When Jasmyn woke she found the Kindly Man standing in her cell looking down on her.

"Good morning child." he greated her. Jasmyn rubbed the sleep from her eyes and answered the greeting yawning while speaking.

"You will need to give two men the Gift today." he told her without length.

"Two? Today?" she asked confused. Usually she had all the time in the world to prepare. Following her targets around and learn everything she could about their habits. And she never had given the Gift to two targets at once.

"Yes. Today. This is a matter of some urgency. So this time you will not have a lot of time for subtlety. Make it look like an accident if you can. But these men must recieve the Gift of the many faced God today."

"Where will I find these men?" she asked.

"They arrived by ship yesterday in the Rag Man's Harbor. They are staying at the Happy Port. So you will need a new face." The Kindly Man gave her a description of her targets.

She nodded and the Kindly Man left. Jasmyn got dressed reciting her prayer twice in her head to make up for last night.

"_Ser Gregor, Dunsen, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei. Valar Morghulis." _

"_Ser Gregor, Dunsen, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei. Valar Morghulis."_

And then went to the kitchen to grab some breakfast before hurrying down to the Room of Faces.

The Waif was already waiting. Jasmyn sat down and the Waif started the procedure. After the new faces memories had faded she stood back up and checked herself in a mirror. It was not an ugly face. But it was not as pretty as Jasmyn either. Jasmyn had pouty lips when she didn't smile, a slim, even nose, slightly tanned skin and long dark hair falling over her shoulders.

This new face was plain. That was the best word she could think of. Flat cheeks. Thin lips a short, pointy chin, pale skin and a small nose.

She went up the stairs to choose a dress for this new face. She chose a plain blue dress to go with the plain face. Then she checked her knifes. One in each boot. One in each sleave of her plain blouse. Another hidden at the small of her back. Her finger knife was tugged away in a small pouch on her broad woven belt. Another pouch contained several small viles of poisons she had grabbed from the poison cabinet on her way up from the Room of Faces.

Satisfied she put on a roughspun, grey, woolen cloak and headed out towards the Happy Port.

When she arrived she lingered outside for a while. It was still early. Maybe they were still sleeping. But slowly live started to return to the city. After watching the Happy Port for about an hour she decided to have a look inside. It was time for breakfast anyway. She only had been able to get in a few spoons of porridge with milk before putting on her new, plain face. The Happy Port was a brothel only at night. During the day it was a diner. And they recently accuired the rooms next to the brothel. They had broken down the wall to build a door connecting both establishments on the upperfloor and now also rented out rooms. Maybe her targets would be among the breakfast crowd. She went inside and picked a table close to the door with a view of the stairs. She looked around. At this hour there were only a few patrons. The Happy Ports kitchen was not that good. Her friends the whores would not wake until later. One of the servant girls approached her to take her order. She ordered some bread, boiled eggs, fried bacon and a cup of watered wine. The girl left again to fetch her food.

The plain girl looked around the room. She didn't see her targets yet. She kept an eye on the stairs. It was possible they where still sleeping. The servant girl returned with her food. The plain girl started eating slowly. She was halfway through her breakfast when the door opened. Two men entered. One with grey hair falling to his shoulders and a salt-and-pepper beard. Piercing blue eyes and rotten teeth. The other man was smaller then his companion and round. With sparse straw colored hair and watery grey eyes and a nose that had been broken many, many times. Cauwliflauwer ears and fat, wormy lips. And his right hand was missing his middlefinger.

Her targets had arrived. They shouted for beer and food while heading to a cornerbooth. The plain girl cursed silently. She had hoped they would wake from their sleep and head outside where accidents happened every day. But since they just came back from the outside chances where that they had been up all night and would stay here for a while to eat and maybe sleep. That complicated matters immensely. In here there was no crowd to hide behind. And if they went to their room she would have to find a way to get inside their room to give them the Gift. She picked up her breakfast and quikly moved closer to the booth where her targets sat while the servant girl was busy getting their order. There were two other patrons sitting at the tables directly next to the booth. She chose a table whoms patron looked like he had been there all night. When the plain girl got closer she noticed he was sleeping with a half empty mug of ale before him. Carefully she planted herself in the chair next to him towards the wall. He was sitting straight up with his head leaning on the wooden blind of the booth. She moved her chair next to him so that she was somewhat hidden by his impressive belly. She looked around carefully, but non of the other guests had spared her a look. It was good to be plain. Unfortunatly he was snoring. Now that she sat next to him it was pretty loud in her ears. So she couldn't clearly hear what her targets where talking about.

The plain girl was annoyed. She had hoped to eavesdrop on her targets to learn about their plans so she could come up with a plan of her own.

She noticed her old friend the yellow tomcat that she had known as Blind Beth. He jumped up her lap and started making himself comfortable. She absently scratched him behind his ears and fed him small pieces of her breakfast bacon while trying to hear what her targets where discussing. She wished she could hear what they were saying. But between the snoring and the purring of the tomcat she only heard noices. Meanwhile the girl had returned with their food and big mugs of beer. The tomcat was startled and jumped off her lap.

She saw his tail making a turn at the booth. Probably drawn to the smell of freshly roasted meat. And suddenly the plain girl was seeing through his eyes. She saw her targets tearing mutton off the bone and gulping down beer.

Thinking of the rotten teeth of the tall man the plain girl dubt him 'stinky mouth' and his smaller and rounder companion 'nine-fingers' on account of his missing right middle finger.

And then she heard them too. "...sure about d'at?" nine fingers asked. "Saw d'em wit me own eyes." stinky mouth replied. "Now wat?" his companion asked between beer and meat. "We send d'e message and collect d'e coins. D'at's wats now." stinky mouth replied impatiently.

"Wen?" nine fingers asked. Stinky mouth took a swill of beer before answering "Today."

The plain girl had no idea what they were talking about. But it seemed they would not go to sleep just yet afterall. That was good. That would make getting to them easier for her.

She was already running ideas through her head on how to do it when another opportunity presented itself. They were calling for more beer. The Kindly Man had said that this was such an urgent matter that it had to happen today. By "accident" or otherwise. They were obviously planning to send a message to someone. Which she guessed was the reason why they needed to be given the Gift today, before they could send it.

The plain girl quikly got to her feet and moved inside the booth. They only spared her a quik glance when she picked up the empty mugs. She took both to the bar where the barkeeper gave her a queer look.

"You do not work here." he told her.

She explained how stinky mouth was her uncle and she wanted to please him or he might send her away and she would be forced to live on the streets as she was not pretty enough to work in a fine establishment like this.

"It is so clean and snug in here. With good food and good company." she told him in a dreamy voice with a small, wistful smile.

The barkeeper looked flattered. She was sitting at the other table because uncle stinky mouth didn't like her being around when he discussed business but wanted her in ears reach in case he had need of her she explained. Her uncle could get quit temperamental if she was too close or not close enough she told the barkeeper with a quik, fearful glance over her shoulder.

The barkeeper gave her a sympathetic look and filled two fresh mugs up again putting them infront of her.

"On the house." he told her kindly while she was fidgeting as if she was looking for coin.

She gave him a grateful smile and picked up the fresh mugs.

She moved back to her table with the sleeping man and put the mugs down. After making sure he was still snoring and no one could see her hiding behind his belly again she quikly pulled a vile from the pouch on her belt and uncorked it. Two, no, three drops in every mug would be more then sufficient.

She took the mugs and went back into the booth and put the mugs down on the table before nine fingers and 'uncle' stinky mouth. Then she left the booth dipping. Exclaiming loudly "As you wish."

Giving the barkeeper a wide smile, which he returned before going back to cleaning mugs, the plain girl quikly and quitly moved towards the door. Halfway up the stairs 'Uncle' stinky mouth suddenly came out of the booth with a loud roar and then collapsed lying twitching on the floor. Behind him at the table the plain girl saw nine fingers grasping at his throat foaming at the mouth and eyes bulging in their sockets. The plain girl darted for the door and was gone in a moment.

Once outside she slowed down and let herself to dissappear into the crowd. She quikly turned her cloak. A little trick she had picked up from the mummers at the ship. The inside of her cloak was lined with dark blue finespun wool. A sharp contrast to the grey woolen roughspun she had been seen with earlier. With her hood pulled over her head it would allow her to put more distance between herself and anyone who'd might try to pursue her. The mummers wore many doublesided costumes. That way they could change quiker between acts. It also worked in her profession.

She returned to the House of Black and White later that day and reported to the Kindly Man.

"So it was not a tragic accident this time." he stated. "But that's alright, child. " he added when she looked to the floor as if being scolded. "Like I said this was an urgent matter. And you carried it out swiftly and competently."

The plain girl perked up at the compliment.

"Was the matter so urgent because they were looking for something?" she asked.

The priest nodded.

"It was."

And then added "And they found what they were looking for too."

"What was it?" the girl asked.

"We do not concern ourselves with these things. Those who come to us seeking the Gift have their reasons. And sometimes they believe they need to share those reasons with us."

"What difference does it make?" the plain girl asked.

"It makes non." the priest said. "Not to us or to the Many Faced One. But sometimes it reaffirms our clients in their believe that it is necessary. And in this case they wanted to stop a message from being delivered. And that you did."

"I knew it." the girl thought.

With that he dismissed her and the Waif then took her back down to the room of faces and when she came back up she was no one once more.

The next couple of weeks Jasmyn's services at the bank were not needed.

The girl spend most of her days with the Kindly Man practising her glamor. She was getting better at it and the Kindly Man told her she probably was the most talented acolyte the House of Black and White has had in a hundred years or more.

She was pleased with the compliment. It made her feel proud.

In the evenings after dinner she went outside to meet Osric and get the news on Jon's condition. When the Waif asked her why she went outside she explained that she had spend too much time in the stuffy office at the Iron Bank and now here practising her glamor. She needed a little fresh air and some time alone she told the Waif with a face as fluid as water. The Waif gave her a queer look but accepted the explanation.

She had practised her glamors for weeks from before sunrise until well after sunset and decided that tonight she would put her ability to hold them to the test. Before she entered the healers house she had used a glamor to change the face that looked like Arya Stark to something that looked more like a dark haired Sansa Stark. High cheekbones, but with a slightly longer, horseyer face and sad grey eyes.

"When casting a glamor it is important to be able to visualise what you want to look like." the Kindly Man had told her. "The more familiar you are with the look you want, the easier it is to cast that illusion and hang on to it."

For weeks she had tried to go for a random look. And failed. She then tried to imitate Brusco's daughters and the whores of the Happy Port. That was when she started to have her first successes. At first it was only a few seconds before the glamor collapsed again. But she quikly got better at it. And then one day the Waif had prepared some lemon cakes for breakfast before practise. The smell and the taste triggered a memory in her.

A girl with high cheekbones, thick auburn hair and vivid blue eyes. A girl that was annoyingly good at almost everything she did. Singing, dancing, poetry, needlework. And even worse she was beautiful as well.

A girl that had no mind for sums or running a household. A girl that could barely stay in a saddle when the horse went faster then a slow trot. A girl who dreamed of knights and princes doing great deeds in her name.

And although no one hadn't thought of her that much since she left Kings Landing the memory of the beautiful girl with the auburn hair still hurt. The hollow place inside her seemed to expand at the thought of her. No one also remembered other things from another time. Another place. A place called Winterfell. She remembered how she and the auburn haired girl snuck into the kitchens of the castle to steal some lemoncakes. The beautiful girl had loved lemoncakes. No one remembered the cook walking in on them and then chasing them both through the courtyard. She remembered her and the beautiful girl running headlong into the Lord of Winterfell. The cook hadn't seen his lordship either and ran into him as well.

All three of them fell to the floor and the lemoncakes where ruined, staining his lordships freshly washed tunic.

She remembered the Lord of Winterfell looking at his tunic and his cook and daughters in disbelieve. Unable to formulate a full sentance. And then suddenly they all started to laugh at once.

"Those memories belong to Arya Stark." she thought "No to me. I am no one."

No one angrily wiped away the tears that had come to her eyes unbidden.

"Rule your face."

"_Ser Gregor, Dunsen, Polliver, Raff the Sweetling, Ser Ilyn, Ser Meryn, Queen Cersei. Valar Morghulis."_

she thought to herself.

And then she furiously continued practising her glamor.


	5. Chapter 5

**Varna**

Tonight she arrived at Osrics house early. The healer was still getting ready when she showed up.

"Valar Morghulis." she said stepping into his study. He was startled by her sudden appearance.

"Valar Dorhaeris." he replied.

"Tonight I will join you in your visit. You will introduce me as your apprentice and niece, Varna." she told him.

He looked at her with something approaching fear but agreed to do so.

The moon had risen and the nightsky was clear when Osric and his young apprentice girl, Varna, arrived at Tarns house. Varna saw guards standing at the door looking suspiciously at her.

"Who is this then Osric?" one of them inquired. "She is my apprentice. My good daughters daughter. Her name is Varna." he replied.

"And why is she here?" the guard asked looking her up and down.

"Why, to assist me of course." Osric replied. "Assist you?" the guard asked. "You have come by every night since we arrived in Braavos. And now suddenly you need an assistant?" he put a hand on his sword.

Osric was starting to sweat. Struggeling for a convincing answer.

Varna cut in. "My Lord..." she said with a small pause. "My uncle didn't mean no disrespect. I have only come into his service recently since my mother passed." she squeezed out a tear and sniffed before going on. "My mother was a healer as well. And I studied with her before coming into my uncles house. And now..."

she let the last sentance linger for a moment and squeezed out two more tears lowering her gaze as if the memory was too painful. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and looked back up to the guard. His hard face had softened.

"...now I study under my uncle. My mother would have wanted for me to become a healer like she was. My uncle is just trying to fullfill the promise he made to her on her deathbed."

The guard looked unsure but had relaxed his grip on the sword pommel.

He gave her another look and then waved them through.

"Thank you My Lord." she whispered in passing with a grateful smile, lightly touching his hand. He nodded gruffly and let go of the sword and then returned to his post.

When they entered Varna saw more armed guards. She saw the staircase that led to the upper floors where the bedrooms where located. The woman was standing at the top of the stairs. Her face hidden by a brown scarf and only the eyes where left free. They were as brown as her scarf. She wore a long green, woolen dress that had known better times. She motioned Osric upstairs. She looked at Varna and Osric quikly explained she was his apprentice. The woman just nodded and then led them to one of the bedchambers at the end of a long hallway. Varna knew from her previous visit to Tarn that this was actually Tarns own bedroom. Two guards stood outside the door and opened them when they approached. Varna was starting to feel anxious. Her heartbeat quikened. She tried to control her breathing to slow down her heartbeat. But it was no use. Her palms were now getting sweaty too.

They entered the room. Inside there was a large bed. Obviously build to accomodate a large occupant. Or otherwise two or three occupants of normal stature.

But at the moment there was only one occupant. And he was not of large stature. Right now he wasn't even of normal stature.

Osric had told her that Jon had lost weight. And she had seen it at the warehouse. But she had seen it from a distance. Not from this close.

He looked better then she remembered. But still so thin and frail. She was almost certain that she could pick him up and carry him around without much trouble.

Her heart was beating so fast now that she was certain the guards must hear it and would come charging in swords drawn any second now.

Then Jon opened his eyes. The same eyes as her own. She lowered her gaze a little. Suddenly afraid that he would recognize her despite her glamor.

"Osric..." Jon started with a voice that sounded nothing like she remembered.

"You are almost five minutes late. I was starting to think you forgot about me."

He tried to rise up.

His voice sounded horrible and Varna had to stop herself from throwing herself at him and push him back down. She didn't have to, Osric did it for her.

"My Lord. You are still weak. You need to rest."

Jon sighed and lay back down. He looked at Varna.

"And who is this?" he asked weakly.

"This is Varna" Osric introduced her. "My niece as well as my apprentice. I took her in recently after the passing of her mother."

Jon gave her a long look. Varna could tell that there was something he found familiar about her.

"I am sorry to hear about your mother My Lady." he told her.

"Thank you M'Lord." she squeeked in reply trying to mask her voice.

Jon gave her another inquisitive look and looked like he was going to ask her more, but he was interrupted by Osric who asked him if he could please start his examination.

Varna turned around and looked as if she was admiring the walls letting out a breath of relieve.

Behind her she could hear Osric talking. Jon's fever had finally broken completely and he now needed to rest and eat. Osric recommended several fish soups to ease Jon back into eating normal food. She suddenly heard Jon ask Osric about his

employer who graciously had offered Osrics services and this mansion as well as a tidy sum of money.

The healer didn't answer. But suddenly she heard another voice behind her. "Yes. I would like to know that as well healer."

She heard the scarfed woman shriek.

It was neither Osric or Jon's voice. Varna's blood turned to ice in her vains. And she felt her grip on her glamor slipping. She quikly reasserted her control over the illusion before turning around.

What she saw nearly made her lose control of her glamor again. But she managed to keep control.

Osric was looking gosthly pale gasping for air. The woman cowered in a corner and Jon lay in his bed looking more surprised then alarmed or frightened.

There was a man, judging by the voice, wearing the robes of a priest of the House of Black and White his hood masking most of his face save for his mouth.

"So..." the man adressed the healer "how is your patient? Will he live?"

Osric was struggeling for composure.

"Yesyesyes..." he stammered "Lord Snow should make a full recovery provided he eats and rests properly."

"Lord Snow ey?" the priest asked. "That is my name." Jon said weakly but calm. "Who am I speaking too?"

"I am no one." the priest replied and then turned to face Varna walking towards her.

"Osric, I thank you for your service. You may leave now. Your service has ended." the priest dismissed him. Osric bowed and left hastily forgetting most of his stuff in his haste. Varna saw the guards at the door. They were lying on the floor. Jon saw them too. "My men..." he started "...are alive. Just sleeping." the priest finished for him.

"How did you get in?" Jon demanded.

"This house has hidden doors and secret passages. Known only to it's owner. And a select few others. You know them as well I believe, child." he now looked her straight in the eyes. Eventhough his eyes were still hidden in the shadows of his hood.

Varna now stared right at him holding his gaze without saying a word. She cursed herself silently. Of course she knew about the secret passageways. But she had so desperatly wanted to see Jon that she had taken a chance by going in as Osrics apprentice instead of just using the passageways in the walls behind the bed.

Because Jon was rarely alone. The mysterious woman was always at his side. And his guards were only a few feet away. The chance of her getting to see him undetected was slim. It had seemed a better plan to hide in plain sight.

Now they had caught her. She wondered what the priest would do with her. She was queerly calm at the thought that he might kill her. But the thought that he might hurt her brother made her blood boil. She loosened the blades hidden in her sleeves. The priest must have seen the movement or read her mind. His mouth twisted into an amused smile.

"You won't need those." he assured her nodding at her hands. She relaxed a little at these words.

The priest went on

"When you first came to us, there was only sadness, rage and hate in those eyes of yours. Eyes that had seen more then anyone should ever see. Especially a child."

"You had lost so much already. But still you were willing to give even more. We offered you ways out. Offered you a chance at a new life. A different life. But you refused. We gave you tasks that would have broken lesser men. But you refused to quit.

Instead you mastered every task we laid before you. All but one. In your hearts of hearts you always stayed the same girl that came to us across the Narrow Sea. You never fully gave her to Him of Many Faces. You hid her well. You even fooled some of our brothers. I commend you on that." He sounded genuinely pleased.

"But I know you better then they do. I saw the change in you over the past few weeks. The sadness, rage and hate are still there. But there is also something else now." he paused for a moment looking at Jon who sat straight in his bed listening.

"Love." the priest said. "Love for this man. This Jon Snow."

"Very little goes on in Braavos that we do not know about. You know that." he continued.

"We knew the Blackbird had arrived. We learned who it was transporting shortly after you had found out. We also learned the shape he was in. Then you surprised even me. You send him a healer. But not just any healer. No. The Sealords personal physician." he smiled again in amusement.

"The Sealord was not pleased with poor Osric coming to him tired all the time. Or showing up late when his lordship send for him because you rearranged his schedule. Next you send one of the richest men in Braavos into exile in his villa outside of the city and commandeered his house and wealth for weeks." this time the priest let out a little laughter.

Varna still didn't say a word.

The priest went on "I believe the time has come for you to make a decision, child. Now, I will ask you again as I have done many times before. But think about the answer carefully. Because this time it will be final. Who are you?"

Varna still did not say anything. For a moment she just looked at the soft carpeted floor. Then she raised her head looking at Jon and then the priest. He had lowered his hood. She raised her hand, touched her face and let go of her glamor. Determined she looked the Kindly Man in the eyes.

"I am Arya Stark of Winterfell. Daughter to Lord Eddard Stark and the Lady Caetlyn.

Sister to Robb, Sansa, Bran and Rickon Stark. And sister to this man here. Jon Snow."

When she said his name she turned her eyes towards his bed a small smile at the corners of her mouth. Her face glowing with affection. Jon sat there his mouth open staring at them. "Little sister..?" he said his voice a whisper.

She looked back at the Kindly Man. The priest smiled at her and nodded.

"So you are. He of Many Faces has led you to us. But I see now He did not mean for you to stay."

He pulled a bundle out from beneath his robes.

"I believe Arya Stark misplaced this when she first came to us." she took it from him unwrapping it.

The sight made her entire face light up. "Needle..." she whispered.

"You have made your choice, child. You know you can never return to us. But the House of Black and White knows you Arya Stark of Winterfell. We know Jon Snow. And we know House Stark."

She looked up from Needle. He touched her cheek gently.

"All come to Him in the end. I hope you will keep Him waiting for a long time. But be aware. Others are also looking for Jon Snow. And they mean him harm. The man who insulted the Nightinggale. Those two men at the Happy Port. They where part of them. Looking for your brother. Which is why we send you after them."

He pulled a scroll from his sleeve.

"No one had everything she needed provided to her. Arya Stark however will need coin. You know what this is." he handed the scroll to her. She looked at the seal recognizing the seal of the Iron Bank of Braavos.

She tugged the scroll away in her sleeve and put Needle on the floor. Then she turned back to the priest putting her arms around his neck. Pressing a kiss on each cheek. "Thank you. For everything" she whispered in his ear a few tears falling from her eyes.

The Kindly Man blushed slightly when she let him go again. She took a step back and he pulled his hood back over his head.

"Valar Morghulis" he said as a goodbye.

"Valar Dohaeris" she replied bowing to him.

Then he turned around stopping at the door. Without turning back he said

"You have our coin. You know our words. Use them wisely. And please don't forget about Tarn?"

With that he walked out.

Arya turned to face her brother. Jon still sat in his bed. Tears flowing down his cheeks now. His mouth open and smiling at her. His arms outstretched.

"Arya..."

She walked to his bed slowly and then threw herself in his arms.

No one was dead. Arya Stark lived again.


End file.
